Bootstrap's Bootstraps
by JessieRose
Summary: Story of Bill Turner, starts with the hanging of his father. Prequel to my story 'The Sparrow Rebellion.' R and R!
1. The Hanging

A/N Nooo not ANOTHER POTC STORY!! Yeah sorry bout that!! This is about Bootstrap Bill. It starts with his father being hung. This is basically a prequel to my story 'The Sparrow Rebellion'. Please Read and Review!!  
  
Chapter One ~ The Hanging  
  
"Bill!" The eleven year old shouted. She grabbed her friend's arm, but he shook his off, as he fought his way through the crowd. "Bill!" She yelled again, as she followed.  
  
The people of the town stepped aside for them to pass, they all recognised 'Little Bill Turner'. Bill despised them as they showered their pity on him. He shut his ears and ignored their cruel comments about his father. It was harder then it looked, but Bill was use to it. He let their biting comments roll off him, like water off a duck's back.  
  
"You think Jack would have come. . ."  
  
"Jack has things to do."  
  
"Things to do! Things to do! Rosie, my father is about to be hung, what could he possibly have to do?" Bill demanded. He stood beside the gallows, where his father was with the rope hanging limply round his neck.  
  
"Matthew Turner, you have been found guilty of stealing a ship, and attacking a fleet manned by the royal navy. You have on this day been sentenced to be hung until dead. May God have mercy on your sin-filled soul."  
  
Matthew Turner wasn't showing his fear. He had lived his life on the edge, he was not going to back down now, nor was he going to show weakness in the face of his son. For he saw Bill's grimy face staring through the bitter crowd. He saw Rosie clinging on to his arm in fear. In his last moments Bill was his only thought, his only regret, the only person he had to live for. Bill's mother was long since gone, and the two had grown up together. He was comforted at the sight of Rosie, at least Bill had his friends.  
  
The crowd were watching with anticipation, as the drum roll sounded. Rosie shut her eyes, but Bill's were wide open. He wouldn't turn away in the last moment, he would stand tall and brave, just as his father was.  
  
He watched as the rope tightened and his father fell. He resisted the futile attempt to run forward, and his eyes watered with the effort of keeping them open against the glare of the Caribbean sun. But he wouldn't be weak. And there Bill stood, alone with the crowd closing in on him, and he watched his father die without a word.  
  
He was the last to leave, as a group of guards cut down his father's body.  
  
"Rosie," he muttered.  
  
"Aye?" She said.  
  
"He was innocent."  
  
"I know."  
  
"He was a good man."  
  
"I know." She said, trying to lead him from the scene.  
  
Bill pulled out a small knife. He slit a clean cut in the palm of his hand, without flinching. He clenched his hand. "I swear by my blood and my father's knife I will avenge him." Bill said.  
  
Rosie shook her head, as she led him away. "Come on Bill."  
  
"Rosie. . ." He muttered.  
  
"It's okay, Bill." She said, putting her arm around him. "We'll make 'em pay."  
  
He nodded. He took one last look at the limp form of his father, before turning away, his hand still bleeding freely from the self inflicted wound.  
  
A/N So just the start of my story, sorry bout the short chapter, next one will be longer.  
  
~JessieRose~ 


	2. Marcie

Disclaimer ~ I don't own POTC!!  
  
A/N Second chapter!! Right, enter Jack's mother, and no she is a not a prostitute, like she appears in most other fics I have read about her!! Please Read and Review. And ohh I'm dead happy 'cause I've just updated Jack Sparrow's Guide to Life. . .so please go and check it out!!  
  
Chapter Two ~ Marcie  
  
Marcie stood facing the mirror, pulling the tortoiseshell comb through her slinky black hair. Not naturally black of course, she had been born a light mousy brown. But it is not how we are born, but who we grow to be, that really matters. Her makeup was immaculate, and hardly noticeable it blended in with her face, giving her the appearance of natural, rather then artificial beauty.  
  
She smiled back at the reflection that greeted her wide eyes. Marcie was not a modest person, she did not have to waste on such practices in her busy life. She was beautiful, and she knew it.  
  
The bands of gold twinkled in the lamp light, as her slender hands caressed her hair. Marcie stood up, and lay the comb on the dressing room table. She took a step back, scooping her long dress off the floor to get a better look in the mirror. A few final touches were added, before she was ready.  
  
She straightened her dress, dusted off, and spread it out elegantly.  
  
She turned to the doorway, but stopped dead.  
  
"Jack? What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to be annoyed, but the feeling escaped her. In truth the sight of her son had made her feel so much more alive.  
  
He ran to her, and flung his arms around her slender body.  
  
"Jack, my dress!" She said, with a laugh.  
  
He let go at once. "I had to come an' say good luck."  
  
She grinned. "I don't need luck, Jack."  
  
He nodded. "I know."  
  
"Anyway, shouldn't you be with Bill, poor child, imagine seeing your father. . ."  
  
"I wouldn't mind." Jack said, quickly.  
  
She clasped her ringed hand over his mouth. "You must not talk so, your father is good to us." She turned to the mirror, straightened her dress once more. Before she left, she pecked Jack on the cheek. The eleven year old watched as she disappeared from the room.  
  
Marcie was an actress, a glamorous, and most sought after woman. She had talent, bags of it, and the theatre loved her. And she loved life. She was, what was known as a 'child of the Earth', she adored living, and was determined to enjoy every minute of it.  
  
It was this which sparked such a strange reaction when she declared herself the wife of Ronaldo Sparrow. Ronaldo Sparrow made it his personal calling in life to wipe sin from the Earth. And what was the biggest sin of all, happiness. He hated to see people enjoy themselves.  
  
He both adored and despised his wife. She had led him along the path of temptation, and stole away his very reason for being. He felt she was evil, and that he had fallen under her spell. And as punishment for both of them, he was determined to make their lives a misery. But try as he might he could not control Marcie, he could not stop her from acting.  
  
That night she did well, the flowers graced her path back stage, where Jack was still waiting for her.  
  
The two walked home through the back streets. Marcie having donned her usual rags, her husband did not agree with fineries.  
  
When they got to the door, Jack stepped back.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"I'm gonna go see Bill for a bit, Marcie." He said, before turning and running. Marcie sighed, and tried to gather up the courage to walk through the door. She could stand in front of thousands of drunk men and act a siren, or the damsel in distress, or the villain's sister. But she could not face the verbal battles that arose at every meeting with her religious husband. She was almost glad Jack wasn't there, if he had any sense he wouldn't come back. But then again that boy didn't have any sense, and he would be back, if only for Marcie's sake.  
  
She pushed open the door, as Jack turned the corner.  
  
"Marcella, what time do you call this?" Was her greeting.  
  
Jack walked quickly to the docks. He didn't look behind him, as he gently retraced his steps through the town. He emerged by the harbour, and threw himself on the grass, watching as the boats were bobbed up and down by the caressing waves.  
  
He stared out into the black horizon, the silhouettes of the grand ships swallowing up the light. The distance, it seemed so far away. But then again so close, he reached out he hand, gave a little twist and pulled it back in again. It was almost like he could touch the distance.  
  
The giant ships towering over him, they could touch the distance. Maybe that was what a ship was, it was freedom. 


	3. Innocent?

Disclaimer ~ Disney not mine!!  
  
A/N thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!! Please tell me what you think of the next chapter, thanks!! ^_^  
  
Chapter Three ~ Innocent?  
  
And so the life of the three children, Jack, Rosie and Bill continued. Bill without his father, and Jack learning to cope with his. Rosie lived with her aunt and had never known her parents. But no matter what happened during their home life, they had each other, right?  
  
Bill carried his father's sword everywhere and practised with it constantly, often challenging Jack to a duel. The two were getting quite good, until a neighbour spotted them and threatened to go straight to Ronaldo Sparrow. After that jack stopped raising to the challenge. Beating Bill in a play sword fight was not worth a 'tanning' from his father.  
  
Marcie continued to act her heart out, most nights at the theatre, she refused the continuos offers of a place in London. She doubted her husband would approve of the glamorous city, any more then he approved of his glittering wife.  
  
"You see Jack, if you try hard enough, there ain't nothing you can't achieve." She told him once, as she stroked her black hair. "Take me for instance, what was I? Nothing, a nobody, and now." She flung her arms around, spinning in a circle in her dressing room.  
  
Jack watched her with his eyes.  
  
"See, my love." She said, giving him a quick peck on the forehead before leaving.  
  
The relationship between the two was certainly peculiar, at one time it appeared such a link did not exist and at others it would be the strongest bond ever between mother and son.  
  
Meanwhile Bill was sitting in his room. His hand was still bandaged even though the cut had almost healed. He twirled the dagger around in his hand, as his angry thoughts consumed his mind.  
  
His father had been a good honest man, regardless of what jack said. Jack still maintained a healthy belief in Mr Turner's guilt, but Bill refused to accept it. His father was innocent.  
  
And what did he for his lifetime of innocence, he had been hung, killed by the very men he had supported and remained loyal to all his life. Something wasn't right with this world, the grave injustices cut through life, life was unfair.  
  
"I'll change the way of the world." The boy muttered to himself. He clenched his fist, and winced from the pain in his cut hand. Maybe changing the world was too much work for a young boy to undergo, but whatever happened Bill would try.  
  
He crept down the stairs, trying desperately not to make a sound, but the wood creaked mercilessly as he applied his weight.  
  
"Bill." His mother called.  
  
Bill sighed, and walked slowly into the living room.  
  
His mother lay sprawled on the couch, an air of disapproval on her blackened face. Her eyes were crying, though no tears leaked down her face. Her mouth was held in an unlucky horseshoe curve, as she stared absently into space. She shook her head slightly as though returning herself to her senses as Bill walked into the room.  
  
"Bill." She said again, in her slow drawling voice.  
  
He approached the couch on which she lay. He grabbed her arm. He puled back, but it was too late. She dragged him to her side, and held a tight pincer grip on his weak arm.  
  
"You are so like your father."  
  
He swallowed back the fear, that had gathered in his throat, and tried to hide the disgust from his young face. Why did she always do this? Talk about his father like this? He hated how she stared at him, how she cried for herself, and wallowed in self pity. Self pity had never helped anyone. "Oh Matthew, Matthew." She dropped his hand, and he instantly stepped back. She stared past him, into the empty doorway, her hands reaching out to nothing. "Matthew, Matthew."  
  
"Mum, he's gone." Bill said, trying to hold back the tremor in his voice.  
  
His mother wept bitterly, as she reached once more for the door. "Matthew." She cried once more.  
  
His heart beat with pity for his mother. She was an empty soul, a lost little sheep, only half a person without her husband. It was sad how she had depended so fully on one person, and now that he was gone. . .But it was Bill's job to look after her, not his job his duty. And he could not back down from  
  
his duty.  
  
He stepped forward and flung his arms around his mother's neck. She clung to him like a frightened child. "Bill?" She muttered.  
  
"I'm still here."  
  
"Where's your father, Bill? Why did he leave us?" She sobbed.  
  
Bill clung to her tighter. "I don't know why, all I know is that he was innocent he shouldn't have been taken from us. We'll see him again, in heaven." Bill insisted.  
  
Bill sat with his mother until she fell asleep, then when she was snoring gently, he got up slowly and crept from the room. It was too late to go out as he had originally planned to do. Instead he walked back upstairs and threw himself down on his bed. His mother was getting worse, she was talking to herself, worse talking to Matthew, calling for him, crying for him, seeing him everywhere she looked.  
  
And Bill wasn't sure he could cope. He needed help, comfort, the comfort only friends bring. 


	4. A Beautiful Ship

A/N okay so my last chapter was rather sad and gloomy. I have tried to pick up a bit, more interaction from the three children!! I promise this is leading somewhere (I hope!!). Anyway please R &R, constructive criticism is welcome!! ^_^ anything that helps me improve!!  
  
Chapter Four  
  
But when Bill left the gloomy atmosphere of his once happy home, he became normal again. The sea winds, and bright sunlight refreshed him as he stepped from the doorway. It was like he came alive again, regenerated after his period of concealment. It was two months since his father had died, and at last he had the confidence and reassurance to leave his mother alone. He did not like leaving her, one look at her sad face, and clinging eyes had almost made him stop and run to her. But no, it was better for both of them this way.  
  
He could not stay forever in the house, and his mother had to get use to be on her own. He stepped towards the dock, avoiding the centre of town, the location of the gallows, he had no desire to see another innocent person sent to their death by the unfair and irrepressible navy officers. They seemed to be everywhere, like the rats that plagued the town. The rats searched for food, the navy for sin.  
  
They should look a bit closer to home, Bill thought to himself, as he stared up at the gigantic ships, bobbing on the water.  
  
The navy had come all the way from England to take control of their way of life. Well they weren't needed, and Bill for one wouldn't be the only person glad to see the back of them. But they were here to stay.  
  
He stood there, staring out at the ships for a very long time, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Jack and Rosie standing behind him.  
  
"Bill." She said, warmly. He sensed genuine affection in her voice, and was extremely glad of it. He nodded, and smiled.  
  
Jack had stepped passed them, and was staring at the ship 'The Cruiser' that had just arrived in the port.  
  
"She's beautiful." He breathed.  
  
Rosie looked up from where she was whispering with Bill. "Fancy 'er do you, Jack?"  
  
"Not half." The boy said. "Imagine being Captain of that." He said, still awe-struck with the beautiful ship. She towered above him, a flag blowing wildly in the wind, a navy flag.  
  
"I will be one day."  
  
Rosie choked with laughter. "Oh come on Bill, you get sea sick." She accused.  
  
Jack grinned. "Aye, Bill, you'd never brave the sea."  
  
Bill nodded fiercely. "Would too."  
  
"Gonna be a merchant sailor like your daddy?" Rosie asked.  
  
Bill scowled at the mention of his father. His father had been an extremely competent sailor, who adored the sea with every fibre of his being. He had loved his small, but reliable ship 'The Musketeer', and had hoped his son would follow proudly in his footsteps. But from an early age Bill had showed a disliking for the ocean, much too the disappointment of his father.  
  
"I shamed him enough whilst he lived, Rosie, I won't let 'im down now." Bill said, confidently, puffing out his chest.  
  
Jack grinned. "You gonna be a merchant then? You'll 'ave to fight off the pirates." He told him.  
  
Bill shook his head. "Nah, I ain't gonna be a merchant."  
  
"Told you." Jack said, turning back to face the ship. His hands reached out and he imagined himself stroking her grand wheel. He could almost feel the power in his hands.  
  
"Father was an honest merchant, worked hard every damned day of his life, and you know what he got for it?" Bill demanded.  
  
"Bill. . ." Rosie said, she could clearly see where this was leading.  
  
"He got killed, brutally murdered. . ."  
  
"That's what guilty people get." Jack told him.  
  
Bill made to lunge at Jack, but Rosie stopped him. "Leave it Bill, Jack didn't mean anythin' by it." She turned to Jack. "Jack!" she hissed.  
  
"Like I was saying, you don't get nothin' by being honest."  
  
"I wonder how many men it would take to commandeer a ship like that?" Jack muttered to himself, clearly he was not listening to a word spoken by either of his friends. Rather imagining himself Captain of a grand vessel.  
  
"I'm gonna be a pirate."  
  
Rosie laughed at the ludicrous idea, but then her countenance changed when she saw he was being serious. "My aunty says pirates always get what they deserve." She said, angrily. If there was one thing that bothered Rosie about life, was the danglers on society, those lazy men, who couldn't be bothered to earn a living. No, they had to steal it. That and the 'women of ill repute'.  
  
"My father didn't deserve to die." Bill said, through clenched teeth.  
  
Jack grinned. "Rosie, there's thousand o' hundreds o' pirates sailing those seas, and they ain't all bad."  
  
"Yes they are, every last one o' 'em. Every bloody bone in their despicable lyin' bodies!"  
  
"I bet the navy kill more people then pirates do." Bill continued.  
  
Rosie scoffed. "You must be desperate to make up stupid lies like that!"  
  
"You're so naive Rosie. Go back to your aunt. What would a girl know anyway?" Bill said, angrily.  
  
The last comment stung. Rosie hated being reminded that she was 'only a girl', hardly worthy to be hanging around with Jack and Bill. "Maybe I will." She shouted.  
  
"Go on then!"  
  
"If you even think such stupid thoughts again, Bill Turner. . .you wait and see what I'll do." She turned to Jack. "And you Jack Sparrow, I doubt your father would approve." Knowing she had touched a nerve, she turned and flaunted away.  
  
That night, the three of them went to the theatre to see Marcie perform. All arguments that had passed between them earlier were forgotten. It was like that, their friendship was tested every other day, but no matter how or why they fell out, they would always make up.  
  
After the performance Jack took his friends back stage, where they showered Marcie with praise. She lapped it in, loving every second of it. But Jack picked up instantly on her forced smiles, and fake laugh. The haunted look in her eyes told the real truth, she wasn't planning on staying for much longer. The theatre no longer presented any mystery, any challenge. She looked at Jack with a sorrowful look, as she pretended to laugh.  
  
It started the cogs of worry, ticking in Jack's mind. And that night, as he snuggled under the covers, he could not sleep a wink. His mind was full of a horror-filled world of misery, pain and despair, of darkness and gloom, in short a world without Marcie.  
  
A/N Please review!! Oh and Marcie is short for Marcella. Don't know if it's a real name or figment of my imagination!! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!! Don't stop now!! ^_^ 


	5. Marcie Has A Headache

A/N Thanks for all the encouraging reviews so far!! Little Jack Sparrow dolls for everyone!! Please review and tell me what you think. I'm not going to do what some authors do, and say I need so many reviews before I continue. I'll probably continue regardless, but I'd love to know what you think. And I can take criticism.  
  
Chapter Five ~ Marcie has a headache  
  
Although he hated to admit it, Bill was slightly scared of his female rival, he obeyed Rosie's wish, and never mentioned the idea of indulging in a life of piracy in front of her again. He saved that topic for when him and Jack were alone, which seemed to be getting more and more often.  
  
Rosie's aunt, was a strict woman, and she did not greatly approve of her darling niece running around with two rag-tag boys.  
  
So Rosie was snatched from the hands of her friends and taken inside, to learn to be a lady.  
  
"Lady, pah!" Bill scoffed, as the two sat on the end of the pier.  
  
"Missing 'er?" Jack asked with a grin.  
  
"Yeah right!" Bill grumbled. "She's just being plain inconsiderate."  
  
"Not 'er fault she's a girl." Jack said, rather philosophically for him.  
  
"Plain inconsiderate." Bill continued, clearly he wasn't listening.  
  
"At least now we can talk bout pirates without having our 'eads bit off!" Jack said.  
  
Bill nodded, rather absently. "'Eard bout that Anne Bonny, she was gonna be hung, but she were pregnant. . .they can't hang you if you're pregnant."  
  
"Good thing bout being a girl." Jack replied, with a grin.  
  
Bill scowled. "An excuse." He stared across the rippling waters. "Jack?"  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"You wanna be my first mate?"  
  
Jack burst into laughter. Then realising Bill was serious, he turned to face him. "You better watch your cheek Bill Turner, I won't be captained by no one, I be me own captain." He claimed. "Maybe Rosie will be your first mate!"  
  
Jack ducked to avoid Bill's hand. Bill glared at him, before returning his gaze to the ocean.  
  
"Going to see Marcie tonight?" He asked after a while, breaking the silence.  
  
Jack shook his head. "Nah."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"She says not." Jack had learnt not to question Marcie, whatever she said, she had a reason to say it. Therefore he obeyed her, unquestioningly, well most of the time. Bill stared at him with a crooked smile.  
  
"Mummy's boy." He said, rather nastily.  
  
But Jack didn't raise to the bait, instead he answered, calmly and coldly. "How's your mum handlin' wit' out your pa?"  
  
Bill fumed in silent contemplation of his father's fate. He closed his eyes and could see his father's body swinging from a noose. It wasn't right.  
  
"Better watch it Bill, you could end up tha' same way."  
  
"I'd be proud. . ." Bill began.  
  
Jack pushed himself up, and walked away. Bill followed.  
  
"Wha's wrong?"  
  
"Look Bill, your pa was guilty, an' you shouldn't end up like 'im, you shouldn't wanta end up swinging from a hangman's noose."  
  
"He was innocent, I'd die to prove that."  
  
"You two bickering again? Can't leave you for ten minutes, an' your at each other's throats." Rosie called.  
  
"Your aunty let you out."  
  
"She's I'm in the garden," she said, with a laugh.  
  
The three walked slowly back through the port. Jack led them back to his house. His father was out, preaching in the pub. It was strange how such a religious man found his answers at the bottom of a bottle. He had quite a stash, Jack had stolen a bottle of rum once, and shared it with Rosie and Bill. It was definitely an acquired taste.  
  
Marcie was at the theatre, it was almost as though she had moved in there on a permanent basis. Not that Jack minded, he too spent more time at the theatre then at home, or anywhere really as long as his father wasn't there.  
  
He led Bill and Rosie into the backyard. They sat chattering on the rocks, talking about nothing in particular. Then the conversation turned on to the subject of fire, how it led on to this it was not certain, but the end result led to disaster.  
  
"Let's make a fire." Whose suggestion it was, they will not now admit.  
  
But one of the three came up with the disastrous idea. They started to collect firewood, and dry leaves to start it with. About half an hour later, Marcie stuck her head out of the back door.  
  
"Jack darling, I've got a splitting headache, I had to come home early. I'm going to bed, try and keep the noise down."  
  
"You okay?" He asked, concerned, dropping the wood he had just collected.  
  
She smiled. "I'm okay, nothing that a good rest can't sort out." She nodded at Rosie and Bill, before retiring back into the house, and disappearing up the stairs.  
  
The three continued to build up the fire, before long Jack lighted it, and the group sat round, staring at the captivating orange flames. Fires burnt quickly in the Caribbean, thriving in the heat, that's why it was so important to put them out, douse the flames when you leave.  
  
The three sat there for quite a while, when Jack's sharp ears heard the opening of the front door, and the unmistakable step of his father. His face whitened with fear.  
  
"Come on, let's go back to the docks for a bit." And without looking at his friends, he ran to the gate and sung it open, Rosie and Bill followed him, having forgotten the fire completely.  
  
The gate swung shut behind them, as they trotted obediently after Jack.  
  
The orange flames began to roar out of control, they consumed the garden in less then fifteen minutes, and after twenty they had reached the house.  
  
Jack's father sat in his chair, his eyes closed, the Bible falling gently from his sleeping hand. The flames spread to the kitchen, feeding on the wooden panels, and floor. Neither of the occupants of the house, Mr Sparrow or Marcie were aware of the danger as they slept on. Jack, Rosie and Bill chatted happily, as they strolled to the docks. The ship they had been admiring that morning had weighed anchor and left. Jack stared at the empty spot on the horizon where it had been stationed earlier in the day.  
  
The fire continued through the house, as the children watched the moon shining across the calm water.  
  
It's strange how tragedy can be so close, yet so far away.  
  
A/N2 Please review!! 


	6. The Fire

A/N Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed!! ^_^  
  
Chapter Six ~ The Fire.  
  
For years to come that night would haunt Jack in his dreams forever. When he closed his kohl lined eyes all he could see was the orange flames consuming every thing he cared about, his ears filled with the roar of the fire. And all memories of the day before were just a distant blur.  
  
He stood by the docks with Rosie and Bill, when a commotion coming from the town forced them to look round.  
  
"Look, there's smoke!" Rosie gasped. "Some place must be on fire!" She said, excitedly. The three ran to join the crowds, heading towards the smoke.  
  
Rosie put her hand over her mouth as she began to choke over the smoke fumes. Bill looked concerned, as he watched her stuttering.  
  
"Maybe you should go home."  
  
"I wouldn't miss this for the world."  
  
"Rosie it's not some peep show, someone could be dying in that fire!" Jack chided her. He was surprised at himself, he usually would catch the excitement of the crowd, and enjoy such an occasion. If someone had died, it would add to the tragedy, but also the excitement. But tonight he felt different, weary even. He remembered the fire the trio had started earlier in the day, fire wasn't something one should play with. He swallowed as he thought how easily, him Rosie and Bill could have been caught by the flames.  
  
But as they got nearer, a dread began to settle in his stomach, and his face went white with fear. It was his own house that spewed the flames. The fire roared from the roof, windows and door, the house seemed to be glazed in an orange blaze.  
  
Jack ran forward with a cry, but Bill and Rosie grabbed his arms to stop him.  
  
"Jack. . ." She breathed, in disbelief as the fear gripped her.  
  
Bill opened his mouth to say something, but the smoke choked his lungs, and made his eyes water. But he did not release the grip he held on his friend.  
  
The town's people were in desperation, Marcie was a beautiful actress, the symbol of everything they held dear, and Ronaldo Sparrow. . .good ol' Ronaldo Sparrow who wouldn't hurt a fly. They made several attempts to try and get inside the house, eventually two men, managed to enter the front door.  
  
Jack watched agonised, as the seconds turned to hours, pinned in between his two friends.  
  
After about five minutes, the men emerged carrying a spluttering figure. Jack broke free and ran forward.  
  
"Marcie!" He shouted, but as he came nearer his voice dropped.  
  
It wasn't Marcie, but Ronaldo Sparrow, gasping for breath, still clutching the Bible.  
  
"Where's Marcie?" One of the rescuers demanded.  
  
"Up. . .upstairs. . ." Jack stuttered, in the confusion.  
  
"Come on." The rescuer indicated to his mate, and they set off back towards the house, but just as they got there, the complete upper floor blew up in a blaze of orange and yellow flames.  
  
The roof caved in, and the house fell to the ground in a heap of ash, burning wood, and ferocious fire. The men had to hold Jack back as he tried to run at the flames. "Marcie!" He yelled.  
  
Rosie and Bill put their arms around him, and tried desperately to lead him away. He refused to cry as they led him to his favourite spot. The old fortress was a castle like structure, a stationary position for the English soldiers. It was a haunted place, where brave men ventured only when they had too. But Jack loved it there. He would perch himself against the stone wall and stare out watching the sea, for hours at a time. But now the lapping waves did little to ease his pain.  
  
The roaring of the fire still raged in his ears, and the guilt burned in his heart. His eyes watered, but no tears dropped. Marcie had taught him not to cry long ago. And the principle stayed with him, it wasn't right to show a weakness.  
  
Bill and Rosie were scared, scared of what Jack might do. They didn't know what to say, so just sat one on either side of him, in silence.  
  
"Jack, me lad." A man said, approaching them. He had a worn face, and his eyes held the tale of sadness. He lived in the town, and Jack recognised him as a regular to Marcie's shows at the theatre.  
  
"Your pa be awake, an' askin' for ye."  
  
Jack looked down, and breathed hard, he bit his lip to stop the tears from leaking from his eyes, before pushing himself. Rosie and Bill followed suit. They walked behind this man, this fan of Marcie's as he led them back to the burnt shell which was once Jack's home.  
  
The smell of putrid smoke, and scorching flesh met their nostrils, and all but Jack felt repelled. Jack walked, his eyes downwards, staring at the ground, it was almost as though he was numb to the pain, to the atmosphere, to the horrific sight that met his red eyes.  
  
They were led past the burnt shell of the past, to the doctors surgery, the home of Dr Shinel. Jack was led in, Rosie and Bill made to wait outside.  
  
And there on the bed lay the feeble figure of Ronaldo Sparrow. With his last breath, before falling unconscious he uttered three words. Three words which would haunt Jack for years to come, far more then the old fortress haunted the townspeople, or the obligation to avenge his father haunted Bill.  
  
The doctor scurried the young boy from the room.  
  
"He should be better in the morning, it's the smoke fumes you know." He told him. "Stay with your friends tonight."  
  
Jack walked back out into the cold of the night, still numb to the chilly Caribbean winds, and putrid acidic smell.  
  
"I want to be alone." He said, as Bill and Rosie made to follow him. Rosie was going to go regardless, but Bill pulled her back.  
  
"I know what it's like Rose, maybe he is better on his own,. Just for a while." He told her.  
  
She shook her head, uncertainty reigned in her mind, but she stayed with Bill.  
  
Where Jack went that night, no one is sure, he did not resurface until the morning, and looked very rough and tired. However one thing is certain, he didn't get much sleep. Those three words haunted his mind, filled every one of his thoughts as he lay staring up at the sky, oblivious to the rain, and wind. Three words uttered from his father's rasping, religious voice. Three words of blame, and guilt. How could an eleven year old boy handle all that? He could not get it from his mind, and as the wind gushed passed it seemed to be mocking him.  
  
"You killed her." The wind called, "You killed her."  
  
A/N Okay, I can't believe I just did that!! I killed Marcie. . .or did I? 


	7. The Key

A/N Thanks for all the reviews. Please tell me what you think of this chapter.  
  
Chapter Seven ~ The Key.  
  
The funeral was a quiet affair, nobody felt like celebrating the death of Marcie. She was too beloved, too well known, and would be missed too much, for people to celebrate. Even Ronaldo Sparrow seemed sobered by the events. But he kept professing that she had gone to a better place.  
  
"If I hear that bloody cliché one more time!" Bill told Rosie, angrily. "That's all they use to say when pa was murdered."  
  
"Bill, we have to put our own feelings aside, we have to be there for Jack."  
  
"And we will be." Bill replied. The two of them stopped whispering as the reverend came forward. Nobody could deny it was a beautiful ceremony, it did Marcie proud. How she would have laughed to see all the gloomy faces around her gravestone. All the gloomy, sorrowful faces. . .and then Ronaldo Sparrow stepped forward.  
  
"I'd like to say a few words for my wife."  
  
Jack stared up at him with anger. Jack had always hated his father, but now he hated him even more. "It should have been you, not Marcie." He mumbled.  
  
"Jack. . ." Rosie reached for his hand, but he pulled it back without so much as a look at his concerned friend.  
  
Ronaldo cleared his throat. "As you all know, my wife departed this world exactly five days ago, lost in a house fire. My wife has found rest, the Lord saw fit to take her from the world. So let this be a lesson for those who indulge in sins of the flesh, and of the mind. God will find you. The mills of the Lord grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly small. But also let God see it fit to punish those responsible for her untimely death. She was an extraordinary woman, and will be missed by everyone who knew her."  
  
As the graveside began to clear, Jack remained. He threw a rose on top of her coffin.  
  
"She were a beautiful woman."  
  
Jack looked up shocked.  
  
"Beautiful, brought magic into the lives o' everyone that knew her." The voice came from a man. He was about twenty. His accent kept changing, and his appearance was vague. Jack knew instantly he was an actor.  
  
"I know." Jack said, defiantly.  
  
"Your father seems to think she was murdered."  
  
Jack didn't reply. The guilt already lay so heavy on his young shoulders, that he could not bring himself to add to his sins by lying. He stared down and gave the appearance that grief was the reason for his silence.  
  
The man nodded to himself. "Yeah, beautiful woman, cut down in her prime she was." He continued. "But murdered? Who'd wanna murder such a beautiful creature?" Again he was greeted by silence. So he decided to try a different approach.  
  
"If I ever find out who did it to her. . ."  
  
Jack jumped up. "Maybe it was an a accident."  
  
"Fire ain't a toy, boy." The actor grumbled.  
  
Jack had had enough, he started to walk away. "Wait a sec, I clean forgot the reason I came to talk to you in the first place. Truth is Marcie asked me too."  
  
Jack turned round, quickly. "She asked you too?"  
  
He nodded. "Aye, she did. Now what was it she wanted me to do?"  
  
Jack sighed, and sat down on the dry ground, actors were forgetful people, he could be waiting here a while. But it was important, and he was willing to wait.  
  
"Ah, that was it, she asked me to give you this." And without another word the actor handed Jack a key. By the time Jack looked up, the man was gone.  
  
It was the key to her dressing room at the theatre. The urge was too hard to resist. He knelt beside her tombstones, and kissed it lightly. "Bye Marcie." He said, before walked off.  
  
He went in through the stage door, avoiding the memorial going on in the foyer (for Marcie, of course). He slipped the key into the lock, and pushed open the door. He stepped into the dark room, and looked round with a gasp. Whatever he had been expecting, he certainly hadn't been expecting this.  
  
The room was empty, no make up, or tortoiseshell brushes gracing the table, no dresses hanging from the rack. Absolutely no sign of life. Then as he looked closer he spotted a scruffed piece of paper lying on the floor.  
  
Jack,  
  
I'm sorry. But I had to go. There is nothing left for me in the Caribbean, I will never forget you, ever. It's not your fault I've gone, it's just I feel so trapped here, I need to get away. Escape, to freedom. I'll never stop loving you.  
  
Marcella Sparrow.  
  
He dropped the letter back to the floor in shock, he had too sit down. He grabbed the stool and threw himself in front of the mirror. But even that held a surprise. Scrawled across it were the words 'Let your spirit sour, My Sparrow'. Words he would remember for the rest of his life.  
  
"Is everything okay?" The actor who had given him the key popped his head round the door.  
  
Jack muttered to himself. "She didn't have a headache that day, she was packing her bags to leave."  
  
"You what?" When he got no answer, he shrugged and left again. Poor child, the loss of his mother had hit him hard.  
  
But Jack broke into a grin, and shook his head with a smile. Now that was ironic. Marcie had been running away, she had written a note of goodbye to her son, saying it wasn't his fault, and that she still loved him, she had gone home, traipsed upstairs to pack her bags whilst hiding under the pretence of a headache. Meanwhile the fire, started by her beloved son, began to lick the walls of the house. Maybe if she hadn't been running, she'd still be alive. But if she was still alive, she would be running. Would it have been better to know Marcie was alive, but not with him? Or was she better dead, and by his side? 


	8. Sunsets and Seasons

A/N Thanks for the reviews, hope you all like the next chapter.  
  
Oh and JeanieBeanie33 when you say it's different. . .is that good or bad? *scared face*  
  
Chapter Eight ~ Sunset and Seasons.  
  
"I am beginning to worry about you, Roselyn. Perhaps you should go and stay with your cousin Mortimer back in England. I would hate to fail your parents, and they did make me promise to give you a correct upbringing."  
  
Rosie stared at her aunt stupified. Not only had her aunt just said the longest sentence she had ever spoken to her niece, but the mere idea of England sent a shiver down the ten year old's spine. She hated the wet dreary country, so far from her friends, and memories of her parents.  
  
"I am happy here." Rosie said, quickly.  
  
Her aunt sighed. "Ah, but happiness is not always good for the young mind." Rosie was confused. How could happiness not be good for you? She didn't reply, she couldn't. She didn't know what her aunt was talking about so couldn't form a decent argument.  
  
"See child, back in England. . ."  
  
"But I like it here."  
  
"Roselyn, my child, you are a lady of breeding, or you were. Back in England you will get the education and attention you deserve. You may even be able to have a London season, you could share it with your cousins, I am not sure how far your cousins budget will stretch, but he will see you alright."  
  
Jack had spent a whole morning telling Rosie what a 'London season' was. Apparently Marcie had told him.  
  
"Basically all the girls get dressed up an' go an' display themselves, an' then the men makes bids. . ."  
  
". . .like an auction. . ."  
  
"'xactly like an auction. An' the one who bids the highest gets the girl." He told her.  
  
Rosie had laughed then, but now it seemed much more real.  
  
That day when she met the others they sat by the fort, each of them depressed.  
  
Jack clung an old key in his hand, and his face was so hardened and closed that Bill and Rosie didn't dare ask. Bill was moping over his father, as per usual. And Rosie had the threat of London hanging over her. Surely ten was too young for a season? Jack had said fifteen, sixteen was the normal age.  
  
"But I want you to have a proper education, and lose some of that nasty Caribbean tan, before you are launched into society." Had been her aunt's reply.  
  
So the three sat by Jack's safe house, never minding the ghosts, in silence each contemplating their own miserable lives.  
  
Rosie began to stroke the grass with her hands. It felt warm against her fingers. It was six o'clock in the evening when Bill stood up to leave.  
  
"Can we stay and watch the sunset?" Rosie asked.  
  
Bill stared at her in amazement. Rosie had never held with such sentiments before, besides surely her aunt would be mad if she stayed out so late.  
  
The out of character comment even awoke Jack from his stupor.  
  
She shrugged at their surprised faces. "It's times like these you realise what really matters."  
  
Jack stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff, and peered over at the rocks. "You know it would be dead simple to end everything, to just step over the edge. . ." His foot tottered slightly as he leaned over.  
  
"Jack!" Rosie screeched. "That's ridiculous, as if any one would want to do a thing like that."  
  
"If your life was really that bad, you would." Bill said.  
  
"Well, both o' you should be thankful it ain't."  
  
"Shouldn't that be both of you should be thankful it isn't?" Bill asked, innocently.  
  
She scowled at him.  
  
"Come on little girl, if you're gonna be a lady you gotta talk like one."  
  
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Then I most certainly don't wanna be a lady, I wanna have my freedom."  
  
Freedom. Freedom. The word sparked off something in Jack's mind, a memory. A memory from long ago, a memory of Marcie.  
  
"Sometimes you know Jack, I could just walk out there, into the sea, into that horizon. I could just walk and walk, and not stop, I could disappear over that horizon. That's what the sea is you know, it's freedom." She nodded. "A massive blue pile of freedom." The tears rolled down her cheek, one of which was covered with a red hand mark. That was before she was strong, before she had learnt to fight.  
  
Jack shook himself, as a sudden thought came to him. He pulled the letter from his pocket, and scanned it again with his urgent eyes. . . .Escape, to freedom. . .  
  
"Auntie told me a story about a girl who came from the sea. There was a shipwreck, no one survived, but then the sailors saw this figure just rise from the blue depths and walk ashore. Some said she was so wicked the sea had thrown her back up. She wreaked havoc on the family she stayed with, breaking the hearts of all who came in contact with her. One day she just disappeared."  
  
"What happened to her?" Bill asked.  
  
"She walked back into the sea, and disappeared beneath the waves."  
  
Bill shook his head. "Nah, don't believe it."  
  
"Just because you don't believe it don't make it so, Bill Turner." Rosie said, angrily.  
  
The three stood together watching the sunset, a lot had happened since they had last watched it.  
  
Matthew Turner had been hung, regardless of innocence or guilt, Rosie was being taught how to be a lady, and Marcie had perished in a fire. It seemed like things would never be the same again.  
  
"One thing is still right though." Rosie said, saying what the others were thinking.  
  
"What's that?" Jack asked.  
  
"Us." 


	9. Rosie Runs

Disclaimer ~ Don't own POTC, don't think I ever will. (What a depressing thought!!) ^_^  
  
A/N No. . .I have to go back to school on Monday so updates will get less frequent. Oh well, tell me what you think of this chapter. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!! ^_^  
  
Chapter Nine ~ Rosie Runs.  
  
"Ah, Roselyn, there you are, where on earth have you been, child?" Her aunt screeched. Rosie gasped, she had forgotten the time. She had spent the evening with Bill and Jack, watching the sunset.  
  
"I'm sorry aunt. . ." She began.  
  
"No matter, no matter." She said, waving her hands. "It's just you've kept Mr Winchester waiting."  
  
Rosie spun round, her dress was frayed at the bottom, and slightly wet. The back of it was dirty from where she had sat leaning against the old fort wall. She definitely wasn't dressed for visitors.  
  
"Mr Winchester lives about a mile away, dear, on that grand estate just west of the old fort." Her aunt said, with a smile.  
  
Mr Winchester was a middle aged man, with a distinct air of arrogance about him. He looked at Rosie through the thin slits beneath his bushy eyebrows with a look of despair.  
  
"Is this it? I expected something better from the niece of Miss Everton."  
  
"She cleans up well." Rosie's aunt said quickly. "Roselyn, my pet, go upstairs and get changed, I'll send Milly up to help you."  
  
Rosie left the room, but she did not go to her room. Slowly, she put her eye up the keyhole, and watched as her aunt served the tea.  
  
"You see Mr Winchester, when I heard you were travelling back to England, I was most joyous." Her aunt began. "I mean, you have met my niece. It is not her fault you know, it is the company she keeps."  
  
Mr Winchester nodded, but didn't reply.  
  
"And so I was wondering if she could travel back to England with you. I mean her cousin would meet her of the boat, and that would be the end of it."  
  
Rosie gasped. She closed her eyes and tried to picture England. But all she could see was the beautiful palms, the clear blue waves, and the old fort of the Caribbean. She took one last look at the door, before running down the hall, and out of the front door.  
  
"Mother, I'm home." Bill cried, as he walked in the house.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
He ran to the living room in a panic, but stopped dead at the door. There was his mother, lying asleep on the couch. She hadn't slept properly for weeks, well since. . .  
  
He gently stroked the hair out of her eyes, and sighed. "Told you we'd be okay." He muttered. She looked so peaceful, and content lying there on the couch. Her face was free of worry, the lines of concern had ceased, and her face was a picture of innocence.  
  
He sat down beside her, and slept. And for the first time in months, his dreams did not contain his father, they did not hold any bad feelings of vengeance.  
  
Rosie ran as fast as she could, she only stopped when she got to the Old Fort. She leaned against the old brick, panting for breath, and shivering in the night breeze coming from the sea. A fog had sprung up, and she could barely see two feet in front of her eyes. And there is that thick blanket of fog, she lay down on the ground, and fell asleep.  
  
The next morning her aunt woke to find her niece missing. It was almost more then the old woman could handle. She alerted the navy officers at once, and a search began for little Rosie. Jack heard of his friend's disappearance, he left the house without a word to his father, and went to find Bill.  
  
The two of them began their own little search.  
  
"This is pointless, she's probably miles away by now, if I know Rosie." Bill muttered. They sat down on the bench facing outwards to the sea. They had been looking for quite a while now, and Bill was ready to give up.  
  
The waves crashed against the rocks sending up a salty white spray. Rosie once said they looked like white horses charging in to battle. The horizon was fogged over, and the mist was still to be blown away, making looking even harder.  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes, when suddenly a thought struck Jack.  
  
"Can't believe I've been so daft!" He cried. "Look I'll meet you back 'ere in an hour." And with that he ran off, disappearing into the fog.  
  
He reached the old fort, and began walking carefully round the outside, narrowly avoiding walking right off the cliff. He saw a bundle lay on the sun filled grass, and skidded to it's side.  
  
He lifted the hair from her face, to reveal the cold, unconscious figure of Rosie.  
  
"Rosie?" He said, softly, shaking her. "Rosie!" He said, speaking louder. "Rosie!" He shouted. He gently tapped her face in an attempt to wake her up. Her cheek was freezing. He felt her arms, cold as ice, he rubbed them to warm her up.  
  
Eventually her eyes flickered, and she stirred slightly.  
  
"Rosie." He said, again, calmer this time.  
  
She opened her eyes, and slowly pushed herself up off the cold, wet floor. She gasped to see Jack in front of here. "What have I done?" She asked.  
  
"Been very stupid?" Jack suggested.  
  
"Jack, I need your help."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "Anyone who's willin' to trade their comfy bed, for a night under the cold stars. . ."  
  
She shook her head, and put her freezing, shaking hand on his mouth. "No, Jack, I really need your help. I need to get away from 'ere."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"My aunt wants to send me to England, to be a Lady. But I'm not going." She screeched.  
  
"Thought you wanted to be a lady?" Jack said.  
  
"No, I just wanna be me." She replied.  
  
He leaned forward and stroked her cold cheek. The warmth spread from his hand, to her face. She stroked her head against his rough hand. "I'm Rosie, and I belong 'ere, savvy?"  
  
Jack nodded. "Aye, you do."  
  
"Then you'll help me?"  
  
Jack seemed to think about it for a moment or two, then he nodded. "'Course a will, for a price."  
  
"Name it."  
  
"I can come with you."  
  
She laughed, happily. "That's more then I ever hoped for."  
  
"But right now, you 'ave to go 'ome. I'll think o' something." Jack promised. 


	10. England?

__

A/N I haven't updated for absolutely ages, and I thought it was time I did. Please R&R and tell me what you think. ^_^ 

Chapter Ten ~ England?

But it seemed Jack did not have time to think of a plan. He went back to meet Bill, after taking Rosie home. Her aunt scolded her bitterly, and told the officers that fortunately her daughter had been found. Jack's name wasn't mentioned, he was glad, he didn't want to be displayed the hero. 

Bill was waiting by the bench, in fact judging on where he was sitting, he hadn't moved. 

"You've found her?"

Jack nodded. "She's back where she belongs."

"Who'd 'ave thought good ol' Rosie could cause such a stir?" Bill asked, picking up a rock and throwing it into the ocean. It made a small splash as it struck the water, and plunged to the depths, the ripples spread out and disappeared, and the surface gradually returned to calm again. 

"They want 'er to go to England."

"England?" Bill exclaimed. 

Jack nodded. The prospect of the three o' them, turning to two, was a sad prospect. To hide his concern, Bill picked up another stone, and lobbed it out into the distance. The scar on his hand visible as he released the grey rock. It sent a chill to his heart, he still had to avenge his father. 

"I'm glad you found 'er, and not the navy." He said, coldly.

Jack nodded. "Me too."

Bill still held a deep resentment against the red coats, he would never regain his trust after they hung his innocent father, if indeed he was innocent. 

"We have to help her get away." 

"Where will she go?"

"Look Bill, I'm going with her." 

Bill turned to him in shock. "You're running?"

"Not running. . ."

"Well, what would you call it? Tell you what Jack, yellow ain't a pirate colour." Bill said, nastily.

Jack got up, he shrugged. "I'm not running, but I am going." He said, before walking off. 

Bill sighed. "Jack!" He shouted, but his friend didn't look back. 

This was ridiculous, sure help Rosie get away, but there was no need for Jack to go with her. 

But when Jack home, there was a surprise waiting for him. He stepped into the dark living room, and stopped dead in his tracks. Rosie and her aunt were sitting on the couch, his father sat opposite, with a satisfied smile on his religious face. 

"What's going on?" Jack demanded. 

"Ah, there you are, my boy. We shall be accompanying young Rosie here to England."

"What?"

He nodded. "It is about time we return, after all it was only your mother who kept us here. I have always desired to return to my homeland. . .and Rosie couldn't go on her own. All in all a very satisfying conclusion."

"Satisfying conclusion?"

His father nodded, again. "Indeed."

Jack shook his head, still standing in the doorway. He didn't dare look at Rosie, who sat in the shadow of her aunt. 

"We're going to England."

"I'm not." Jack replied, defiantly. 

The aunt gasped. She had never heard such an insolent child. "How dare you speak so to your father?" 

She said, shocked. 

"Aunt." Rosie muttered, unhappily. 

"If my Roselyn were like you I'd damn well take her across my knee." She spat. 

"Aunt, please." Rosie begged. 

"We're going to England, whether you want to or not boy." His father insisted, daggers shot from his red eyes. 

Jack looked down, he had neither the courage or the will to look his father in the face. His bare feet gently stroked the carpet. And there looking down at the strands of fabric all neatly woven together, his mother's enchanting face swam before his blurry eyes. It gave him strength, and determination, it lifted his head, so that his eyes squarely met his fathers. 

"I am not." He said. "Rosie?" He held out his hand towards her. 

She didn't look at her aunt as she took it, and Jack led her from the room. 

"Roselyn! You get back here at once! Do you hear me? Rosie!" Deaf to her aunt's shouts, Rosie ran with Jack. Jack led her to the bench, where Bill was still sitting, tossing stones into the ocean. 

"What now?" She panted.

"We leave." He turned to Bill. "You gonna come wit' us?"

"And where may I ask you goin'? How you gonna get there? What you gonna do for food, drink, shelter?" Bill demanded, counting off the questions on his hand. 

Jack waved them aside. "We'll steal the food and drink, shelter can be found anywhere."

"You still haven't said where you're going." Bill reminded him. 

Jack stepped past him, and stared out into the blue mist. Rosie stood by his side. "We'll hide away on a ship."

"Better make sure it ain't going to England, eh?" Bill said, laughing at his own little joke. 

Jack scowled at him. "It's k for you Bill, you're not bein' forced to England."

"Neither are you."

"I am now."

"What?"

"Jack, and Mister Sparrow, they're escorting me to England." Rosie explained, quickly. 

"What we need, is money."

Jack grinned, as though a thought had suddenly struck him. "And where can we find that?"

Bill shrugged. "Nowhere, or we could steal it like the shelter, food and drink." He said, sarcastically. 

Rosie shook her head. "I know what you're thinking Jack, but it's impossible, we'd never get inside, and we don't know if the stories are true."

Bill sighed. "Inside where?"

"The fort, inside the fort there are piles of gold." Jack said.

Bill laughed. "Even if that was true, how would we get it?"

"Simple, we climb."

"Climb?" Rosie and Bill exclaimed together. 

Jack nodded. "But of course if two aren't interested. . ." he said, studying his nails. 

"It's a death trap, think I'd rather go England." Rosie muttered. 

Jack grabbed her shoulders. "Go then. They'll teach you to be a lady, Rose. We'll never see each other again. . ."

Rosie broke free. "You know wha' you almost had me going for a minute there, Jack. Good actor, must get it from your mama. You don't wanta help me, you're helping yourself. You want me an' Bill to get you the gold, so you donna have to go England. It's all you, you, you." She said, her eyes blinked furiously. She made to turn away and walk off. 

Jack watched her walk. "I don't deny it, Rosie." 

She turned and her eyes were gripped by his hurt, serious face. He'd never been serious before. 

"They say there's no such thing as a selfless good deed." She said, staring into his sun tanned face. 

He shook his head. "But hey, I'm sure a selfish one u'll do just as good." 


End file.
